


Loneliness

by greenbloodedcomputer



Series: B-4 [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24496177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbloodedcomputer/pseuds/greenbloodedcomputer
Summary: B-4 is struggling to adjust to life at Starfleet Academy.
Series: B-4 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769731
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of fics written about B-4. These canon-divergent stories depict B-4 after he has been rebuilt by a resurrected Data following the events of Star Trek: Nemesis.
> 
> This fic was based off the prompt : A memory about being alone.

“You will not be alone,” Data assured him. “You will be with your classmates.” 

Sometimes, B-4 felt disconnected from his brother. They were nearly identical in every way, but Data lacked the emotional understanding that B-4 was seemingly plagued with. He had heard about many of Data’s experiences at the Academy. It involved a lot of prejudice. A lot of jeering comments. None of this bothered him, of course, so his reassurances meant very little. 

Now that he had begun his Academy training, he definitely felt alone. His roommate seemed a decent person, but B-4 found himself avoiding his quarters as much as possible. The first week of school, he had a dream that shocked him right back into cognitive functions with a yelp and a burst of emotion that horrified the other cadet. He had discontinued the program then, but it bothered his roommate that he did not sleep. So B took to roaming the grounds at night, which got him into trouble when people reported him lurking on the walking paths at 0400 hours. This was a bad beginning to an even worse experience. 

Classes were easy but interaction was difficult. He did well academically, but comments were commonly made about him ‘cheating’ his way through. After all, how could it be fair if he remembered everything he had ever been exposed to. “Thing about that,” B-4 ranted over subspace to Data one evening. “I remember all the schoolwork, but I also remember the _bad_ stuff. So while they forget the way people hurt them, I get to relive their insults over and over as if it had just happened.”

Data tried to be sympathetic but had no solid words of advice. “You should simply concentrate on your schoolwork,” he suggested. 

“When are you getting your emotion chip back?” B demanded. 

Data shook his head. “We need to develop one that is compatible with this physical form. It will not be for some time.” He paused, looking perplexed. “Why do you ask?”

As time went on, B-4 became more overwhelmed. Schoolwork was not enough to keep him busy. By the closing of the third semester, he still had not made one friend. He had taken to spending all of his time in the library - it did not close - and reading anything he could find. He had nearly exhausted the building of its contents. 

One evening, as B-4 worked alone in the cybernetics lab, he received a call from the Daystrom Institute. 

“All I’m saying is that your processing systems have been on the fritz for weeks.” Bruce Maddox was seething. His desk was covered in mountains of paperwork and his voice was elevated. B-4 shrunk back in his seat. “Why haven’t you called?” 

B shrugged. “You get daily reports,” he said weakly. “I-I thought if there was something to be concerned about you-”

“Have you been running self-diagnostics?” 

“Sometimes?” 

“B-4, we agreed that you could go to the Academy _if_ you took care of yourself. Daily reports don’t give me the information I need. If there is something wrong, you have to tell us.” 

B-4 nodded as he clenched his fists. Neither of them said anything for a moment, and then Bruce sighed. “What is happening over there, B?” he asked in a calmer tone. “Statistics report.”

B-4 hesitated. “I have made a few…modifications.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “Such as…?” 

“I have discontinued my sleep sequence. I have made attempts to lessen the effects of my neural processors by installing a dampen-”

“You _WHAT_?”

“I thought it would be helpful in-”

“B-4 you cannot simply go in and begin messing around with your hardware! You could _kill_ yourself, for God’s sake! Why would you do this?”

In the dim light of the cybernetics lab, in otherwise total silence, B-4 began to cry. “I do not want these emotions,” he groaned. “I simply do not have the ability to control them. I wish to be deactivated until Data can fix-”

“No. Stop. B-4 stop it right now. You are not going to be deactivated.”

“I see no other solution. I’m not equipped to handle this.”

“What emotions are they, B?” It was as if they were back in the Daystrom lab, attempting to navigate the journey to full sentience. Identify the emotion. Find the cause. 

“I am upset,” he said. 

“Yes, but why? What are you feeling?” 

“I am…sad.” He felt stupid performing such a basic exercise. “I feel…inadequate. Negative.”

“Is the schoolwork difficult?” 

B-4 shook his head. “No, the schoolwork is not difficult.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Are your classmates difficult?” B-4 nodded. “Have you made any friends?” B-4 shook his head and bit down on his lip. There was silence for a few seconds. B-4 cringed at the sound of his sniffling echoing in the near-empty lab. “B, you are _lonely_ ,” Bruce said finally. “Why didn’t you call me?” 

“I spoke to Data.”

“Data doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have the same experiences as you. He probably just told you to ignore them and concentrate on your work.” 

B barked out a laugh. “Yes, that’s what he said.” 

“Going to school is hard, B-4. It’s hard for people who aren’t a little over a year old. Hard for people who have had entire lifetimes to practice emotions. You are allowed to feel overwhelmed. Do you want to come back?”

“No!” B-4 looked up at the screen, panic-stricken. “Please, no. I can do it. I…I need to do this.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Bruce countered. “You don’t have to be in Starfleet. There are so many things for you to do. You could work here. You could choose any field you want.” 

“I want to be in Starfleet.”

“Why?”

“I…” Why did he want to be in Starfleet? He wasn’t sure, really. He had always just assumed that’s where he was meant to be. Did he need to have a reason? “I always have.” ‘Always’ was not a long time, but it sure felt like it. 

“You have to take care of yourself, B. If you can’t, then you have to find someone who can help you. I’ll make some calls and see-”

“No. I can do it.” 

Bruce looked skeptical. “I will be checking your daily reports from here on out.”

“Okay.” 

They looked at one another in silence until B-4 heard a door close behind him. “I have to go,” he told Bruce. 

“Alright. I will call tomorrow to check in.”

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

The call was terminated just as someone approached. 

“Oh!” The voice was loud, brash, high-pitched. “Dinnae see you there. Sorry! Eh…can I come in here?” 

B-4 turned to see a young lady in a first-year cadet’s uniform. She had white hair, an indentation on her forehead, and tattoos on her face. He did not recognize what race she was, but she clearly had a Scottish accent. “Yes?” he answered. “I was just attempting to perform an experiment on…myself.” His explanation dwindled when he realized how strange it sounded. 

The girl, however, was not perturbed. “Okay!” she said with a shrug. “I’m a little surprised to see someone here at 0500 hours. Usually it’s empty.” 

“I do not require sleep,” B-4 said. 

“Oh okay,” she said as she moved over to plop down her backpack on a nearby table. “Do you need help with your experiment?” 

B was baffled. He turned in his chair to face the girl. “You do not think it’s strange?” he asked.

“Well, admittedly it’s probably a little difficult to do that sort of thing by yourself, I’d assume. Otherwise no. I come here nearly every morning around this time. To be honest, I try and get as much homework done while the place is empty. I cannae stand most people. There’s a lot of jerks in this school.” She pulled out a PADD and started scrolling through it. “My concentration is in cybernetics,” he told him. “I can help if you like.” She paused and then looked up at him. “Cadet Morag,” she said with a grin. “You are?” 

“B-4,” he said simply. 

“Cool.” 


End file.
